How It Ends
by Pernotti
Summary: What should have been a simple mission, has Natasha and Clint paying the ultimate price.


It should have been an easy mission, in and out; 8 hours tops. Back home in time for dinner he had said. The words of an office worker opposed to those of a ruthless assassin. But the very words that also gave Natasha hope that her life could at least retain just it's hint of normality they had created for themselves.

" Dinner and a movie." The archer chimed as he poked his head around the corner to look at where Natasha was suiting up. The last holster clicked into place as she lifted her head and looked at him " And for dessert?" Clint remained silent, a daring look on his face that left Natasha rolling her eyes " One of these days I'm going to leave you begging for mercy…." It was an idle threat, but a threat never the less.

A cheeky smile crossed her face as she checked all was in working order before she moved over to him, hand on his shoulder as she stretched onto the balls of her feet and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek " Be safe" she whispered; fingers squeezing the back of his neck before her feet settled flat.

" Don't do anything stupid" he retorted before following her out to the Quinjet that lay in wait for them on the tarmac.

" What's life without a little risk, Barton" She looked to him as she slipped into her seat beside him; the jet roaring to life as they lifted into the air. It figured that would be the last moment of happiness they would be afforded. In mere hours their worlds would be torn apart. Or more importantly _her_ world would be torn apart. _  
_

Landing on site, the immediate scene was alive with the buzz of media coverage and law enforcement agents alike. All entangled with one another in a bid to get a first hand glimpse at the action. Such a scene never failed to surprise the redhead, and as she slipped from the jet, her 'game face' was on.

Had she been asked to recount exactly what had happened between disembarking the jet and the moment she felt her world come to a grinding halt. It would have been a damn near impossibility. Only one image stuck in her mind. Clint's lifeless body sprawled across the ground; bow thrown across the floor away from him.

All rational thought flew from her mind as a blood curdling scream tore from the back of her throat. Throwing caution to the wind as she sprinted across the open space, dropping to her knees at his side as she fought to pull his upper body into her lap.

Her defences were down. Her soul bared to the world as her hands fluttered over his bullet strewn torso; hooded eyes looking up to her as he feebly reached a hand up to rest against her cheek.

" Hey, look at me" her voice wavered as she gripped his hand tightly and pressed it to her cheek; tears falling freely, the warmth pooling against his palm, dropping onto his chest and leaving dark marks against the purple accents of his suit " Keep looking at me. Listen to my voice Barton" Her fingers carded through his hair in a bid to keep his attention focused on her. Though even she couldn't ignore how her hand shook, how her heart slammed against her chest.

Her worst nightmare was unfolding before her at lightening speed.

" I need you" she whispered brokenly. I can't do this without you. I need you, I need my best friend." She could hear the rattling in his chest, the wheeze of his breathing as he tried to talk. Their time was dwindling, meagre minutes at most. Natasha knew all too well what he had to say, so instead she silenced him; a finger gently pressed to his lips before the pad of her thumb skirted along his bottom lip " I know" she nodded, another tear running down her cheek " But the last thing I'm going to hear you say is goodbye. I'm not saying goodbye. Not to you. It's the one thing I promised myself I would never do"

Her fingers chased away the dry bubbles of blood that clung to his skin, the pads of her fingers following the gentle curve of his jaw; the smile lines that surrounded his eyes. Eyes once so full of life. Eyes that contained an air of mischief behind them now looked up at her, glassy, almost the gaze of a stranger.

He was no longer _her_ Clint. _Her_ hawk. The man that gave her reason to carry on. The man that gave her reason to wake up every morning and fight. He was gone, and gone with him a significant chunk of her. " _Пока мы не встретимся снова_ " she whispered before ducking her head down to kiss him. Lips pressed firmly to his as her fingers slipped into his hair. Almost as if she willed her hold to keep him alive. Though it was all in vain.

One **last** kiss.

One **last** expression of love.

A kiss to convey every ' I love you' every 'I'm sorry' a kiss to seal the end of it all. With her forehead resting against his, she felt one last shuddering breath lift his chest before his body went limp in her arms; his head rolling to the side as the last glimmer of life faded from his eyes.

Clint Barton slipped from this world commended as a hero, the broken soul of an assassin taken with him.

He arms tightened around him as her face pressed into the crook of his neck. It was a mock re-enactment of an intimacy that had been repeated between the pair so many times before, though there was no return. No strong arms to hold her.

She was alone

Her body trembled as sobs wracked her frame, her face contorted into a mask of heartbreak, of hatred. Of a woman so broken as her world came crashing in on itself, and for what? Why him, why them? Could it possibly have been that she _deserved_ this?

For hours she sat there. Her hold protective as she sat steadfast on the ground. Her lover lifeless in her lap, she gently rocked back and forth much like a mother coaxing a fussing child to sleep, and whilst deep down she knew he was gone, she refused to let go. For if she were to let go, that would make it real, and to make it real would be to break her. Though she already teetered along a fine line. There would be no fixing her, not this time.

From the corner of her eye she spotted movement; silhouettes escorting a figure from the building to her right. The mission was over. Lives were lost. On paper it would say 12 though in reality it was 13…

It was then the true enormity of what she was seeing dawned on her, and without so much as blinking, Natasha lifted her weapon and gunned down the mark, watching with a cold stare as his lifeless body fell to the ground, those who surrounded him jumped back; their own weapons trained on Natasha.

" Just give me a reason" she growled, getting to her feet she stepped towards them, watching as panic crossed their faces. It gave her a certain thrill to know she still could instil fear into others

" I did us all a favour….."she purred, her tone low and dangerous. I'm exacting my revenge…and if you so much as try and stop me…." She laughed, head dropping as her fingers twitched at the trigger " Well I'd advise you don't"

Striding past them, Natasha moved into the building. The rest of the 'political terrorists" yet to be escorted from the premises.

Clint's blood lay on their hands, and the last thing she was going to do was leave them unaccounted for. For too long she had been left amending for her sins, she had been offered the lesser of two evils, and in a way, their impending death almost seemed too kind. More than anything she wished for them to suffer as much as she was suffering in that moment.

Guard upon guard came between the assassin and the building- for that's all she was in that moment- dropped like flies as round after round left her gun. They were no more friends than they were obstacles. Obstacles standing in the way of her and her one true goal. Vengeance.

By the time she had reached the top floor of the building. Dozens of bodies lay in her wake. No care for human life remained within her, and as she confronted Clint's killers, it went without saying that a morbid pleasure settled within her.

Had she had the time, the process would have been drawn out. They would have been made to suffer. Their screams and pleas for mercy would have been music to her ears as she felt the warmth of their blood pooling beneath her hands. But as it stood, no time remained for dramatics. It was short, and simple; an execution shot to take out each and every last one.

Of course some fought back; her own body didn't remain unscathed, but as the last body fell dead, under her cold calculating stare… It was a job well done.

It was bitter sweet, and in the long run it would do little for her. But Natasha had no plans for the future. The future to her was now no more than a black void. The future was meaningless and held nothing for her.

As she descended the stairs, she came to a stop in the lobby; blood wiped from her hands as she looked to the carnage around her. Not so much as a grimace on her face. Disconnected from her emotions she was no more than a shell of herself.

 **This** was how it was all to end. Inevitably this was what Natasha's life over the past 3 years had been leading up to. From the time she had admitted to loving the one man she never should have fallen in love with. To the fateful day she would say goodbye.

Of course there had been numerous scenarios to play out in the her head. All of them equally frightful. All of them leaving her heart pounding in her chest and a certain nausea settled in the bottom of her stomach. But there had been one thing she had never taken into account; just how _soon_.

So as she looked down to her beaten and bloodied frame. Her suit ripped and her skin lacerated beneath. The melancholy that settled over her was almost welcome…..Almost. It made what she was about to do excusable, at least in her head. A place that most would recoil from should they get a glimpse within.

Through the shattered glass she could see the numerous bodies that littered the streets. Agents, officers, friends, colleagues. All put down at her hand. But that meant little to her now. She was a woman exacting revenge. A woman who had no care for her own life, nor for those around her. Her life was over the moment his was, and now the only thing she craved was to be at his side once more.

Natasha knew all too well the moment she walked from that office block she would be gunned down like the animal she was. No pity would be put upon her shoulders, and truth be told she didn't care for Romanoff was a threat. A killer, and she had to be _eliminated_.

Dropping her spent weapons to the floor; a shaking hand reached to push the large glass door open; a smeared bloody hand print left against its warped wind that whipped around her, caused tendrils of soft red hair sticking to the drying blood that now decorated the left hand side of her face.

Right foot forward; the dirt crunched beneath her boot and immediately half a dozen red dots were trained on her chest.

Another step. The gut churning echo of weapons armed mere feet away. All with the soul purpose of putting her down. It was poetic in a way, and had she been in the right frame of mind she perhaps would have laughed at such a thought, though now laughter was the furthest thing from her mind. The gut wrenching pain that encompassed her entire being outweighed the possibility of such a redundant action.

Chin lifted,shoulders square, Natasha took the time to meet the cold stares of those stood in front of her. Once allies. Now the very people responsible for the death of the one person she would do anything for. " Life's a bitch" she hummed to herself before taking powerful strides forwards…. Walking into the line of fire.

Bullets flew, and her body was knocked back, yet she still kept on. A steely determination on her face. Mere feet from those she once held near and dear to her heart, Natasha collapsed to her knees; a line of blood running from the corner of her mouth as she looked up to the figure before her; the solemn expression of Nick Fury looking down at her, and in return she offered him feral smirk. Blood stained teeth twisting what was once a soft expression upon a beautiful face.

Her body fell lifeless to the floor; hand splayed at her side as a silver wedding band rolled from her palm; spinning against the dust before it came to a stop, a plume of grey dirt lifting around it.

The edges of her vision went black, a ringing in her ears before a white hot light broke out across her vision. The ringing gave way to footsteps, echoing down a hallway almost until a shadow was cast over her face. A shadow she would have known anywhere.

" I thought we agreed not to do anything stupid" the voice brought a smile to her face, an eye opened as she looked up to the scruffy blonde looming over her.

" And I thought I told you there was no me without you… Now shut up and hold me, Barton"


End file.
